


The Proposal Plot

by bazypitchandsimonsnow (ChessPargeter)



Series: Signs of Affection Prompts [3]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14579982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/bazypitchandsimonsnow
Summary: Baz is planning to propose to his incredible idiot boyfriend. Hopefully his plot goes off without a hitch.Based on "a confession" request.





	The Proposal Plot

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I'm churning these requests out now, but that won't be forever because in June I start working full time. I hope to get through these requests before then but no promises. Just wanted to warn you guys so you won't be freaked by a sudden lack of my fics lol. Anyways, enjoy!

**Baz**

Okay, Baz, just breathe, don’t be nervous. You’ve planned everything out. This isn’t even a big deal. You and Snow have been together for seven years now. You two have already decided how you want to spend your lives together. Marriage won’t be _that_ different. It’ll be like normal, just including a ring and a new title for each other. Well, plus a wedding. And first I have to actually propose...

I’ve planned literally everything. Every detail is accounted for. Simon will be home in approximately six minutes. I let him know we’re having a nice dinner tonight this morning. The steak is already cooked, the roast potatoes and greens have just finished, and the scones are keeping warm in the oven. I found the perfect plate for my idea too. It’s a white ceramic platter that Daphne gave us as a house warming present when we moved in. There’s a little circular indent in the centre, which is odd for any usual use, but perfect for hiding an engagement ring under a pile of scones.

It’s a dumb idea. A dumb, romantic, sappy idea that Simon will adore. I’ve learned over the years that he loves romantic gestures big or small. I took him to the London Eye for our first anniversary and he couldn’t stop grinning the entire time. But he looks the same way every time I put on his favourite shitty pop song while we do dishes. So he’ll love this...right? He could hate it. What if he thinks it’s a dumb idea? What if he laughs in my face? What if-

I’m jolted out of my thoughts by the phone ringing. The caller ID says “Best Aunt In The World”. (Fiona stole my phone a few months ago, and I haven’t gotten around to changing it.) Against my better judgement, I press the green phone button.

“What is it? You know I’m busy tonight,” I snap.

“I sensed a disturbance in the Force,” Fiona replies. I can hear the smirk in her voice.

“You’re a witch, not a Jedi.”

“Okay, true, but I know you. And you’re currently overthinking, aren’t you?”

I drum my fingers slowly on the counter, answering slowly. “No.”

“Liar” she hisses. “Stop freaking out and relax. It’ll go great.”

“You said my idea was dumb.”

“Yeah, but I said it with a smile.”

“And that’s better because...?”

“ _Because_ , it’s a dumb, sweet, romantic idea. You love the Chosen One enough to act like a sappy idiot. That’s wonderful, so I’m happy for you and want you to go through with it.”

I smile slightly. “Thank you, Aunt Fiona.”

“Now, stop panicking and have fun, love. Oh, and don’t let any numpties ruin it!”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, will shut up abou-” The phone clicks off. I can’t believe she still says that to me. It’s been literal years since I was kidnapped but she won’t ever let me forget it.

I sigh and hang my head down. Despite her words of encouragement, I’m still nervous. Even though I’m pretty sure Simon will say yes, I don’t want to fuck this up. Snow is a hopeless romantic who I love dearly. He deserves a stupid, sappy proposal. And I desperately want to be the one to give it to him.

The door slams shut and I nearly jump. There’s a low groan from the entrance way that I know has to be my lovely graceless boyfriend’s.

“Oh my god, work was a nightmare today!” He shouts. “Do you know how many children insisted on having their noses wiped? Are they not capable of doing it themselves?”

“No, they’re not, Snow. They’re two,” I reply while walking towards our front hall.

“Well, they could learn!”

“You could teach them.”

“Yeah, like I have the time. I’m a daycare worker, I’ve got 30 kids to look after.”

“Then don’t complain.”

I stop at the end of the hall and lean on the wall. Simon is struggling with his sneaker, hopping on one foot while nearly falling over with the weight of his bookbag. There’s finger paint all over his face and snacktime stains on his shirt. He looks like an idiot who just survived a toddler hurricane.

Crowley, I love him.

He finally wins his battle with his sneaker, then looks up at him with a soft smile. We walk towards each other like always. His arms wrap around my neck, I hold his waist, and kisses me. It’s just a little firmer than a peck. And even after all these years it still makes my pulse stutter.

We pull apart and he looks over my shoulder. “Wow,” he says, “when you said nice dinner, I didn’t think you meant this nice.”

Truthfully, it’s not _that_ nice. Growing up as part of a rich British family means I’ve been to much nicer. But I didn’t want to go overboard and give away what I was doing. In hindsight though, it’s pretty nice for us. There’s placemats, properly folded napkins, nice china, low lighting. I thought about using candles, but that seemed a bit excessive. So I went with some nice warm lamps instead of our bright LED overheads.

“I decided we deserve a nice meal every once in awhile,” I say thankfully without a nervous voice crack. “Normal people prefer china plates to plastic, y’know.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, a very Bunce-like gesture. “Sure, Mr. Fancy Pants. And speaking of pants, I should go change out of these child destroyed clothes. I feel so messy compared to you.”

I chuckle. I’m not that dressed up, wearing a loose white shirt and and jeans, but it’s more than a sweatshirt and trackies. (Which I’ve learned more are relaxing to wear around the house than jeans.) I did pick these on purpose though. Like Hell if I’m proposing to the love of my life in lazy clothes.

“Go get changed love,” I say, pressing a peck to his cheek. “I’ll get supper ready.”

Simon kisses my cheek as well, then saunters off to our bedroom. I walk to the kitchen. Everything is still warm, it won’t take long to set up. So I take a minute to open the everything drawer. It’s where we put whatever doesn’t have a place, and right now it’s home to a little red velvet box. I run my fingers over the fuzzy surface, then quietly open the snap hinge. It’s not a flashy ring because Simon isn’t a flashy person. And that’s not a slight against him, it’s just who he is, and I know that. It’s something that he’d like to wear, a simple gold band with circles carved around the surface. I had the inside engraved as well. Niall faked gagged when I proposed the idea while we were ring shopping. He called me tooth rotting sweet. I hope Simon thinks so too.

I shake out of my thoughts and snapped the box closed. No, I can’t dwell on that. The time will come. Instead, I focus on making dinner. I arrange the plates in a showy manner I remember seeing from my childhood. I check on the scones, which are still warm in the oven. I’ll leave them alone until they’re big debut.

Just as am I placing down the plates, Simon walks out. Surprisingly, he’s not wearing his typical loose t-shirt and track pants, but a clean green button down and denim. It’s some of his nicer clothes. Guess he wanted to dress up along with me.

“Dinner is served,” I say overdramatically. He laughs, and it makes me smile.

We sit opposite each other at our small table as usual and dig in. He doesn’t eat as quickly anymore, since he feels more assured that his meals won’t vanish or be his last now. I don’t cover my mouth when I eat anymore either, because I’m no longer afraid of him seeing my fangs. We discuss all the usual things. How work was, funny things we saw, which coworkers we want to stuff down a toilet. All filled with laughter and smiles. It’s so normal. And miraculously, it’s our lives. Our normal, happy life together.

“Oh man,” Simon groans happily, holding his stomach, “that was incredible.”

“Glad to hear it,” I say as I clear the plates. “Hope you have room for dessert.”

He perks up very quickly at the word ‘dessert’. “I love you so much.”

“Of course you do. The way to your heart is through your stomach.”

He stick his tongue out, but he’s still grinning. I smile back just as I enter the kitchen. Once the plates are dumped in the sink, I take the scones out of the oven. They smell delicious. I must remember to send Cook Pritchard a massive bouquet in thanks for her recipe. I take out the platter, and then I take out the ring. I can’t help but simply look at it. I want to spend the rest of my life with Simon no matter what, and I already know he feels the same. But I want to get this right. Because we never thought we’d get this far, and we deserve to have a stupidly romantic proposal.

I place the ring in the centre of the platter, then carefully arrange the pastries over and around it. It’s hard to hide it while making the scones look natural. Once I’m satisfied with appearance (mostly), I take a deep breath and re-enter the dining room. Simon’s looking at something in his lap. But when I clear my throat, his head snaps up. He looks deep in thought for a moment before sees the scones and smiles.

“Sour cherry scones?” He asks playfully.

“What else?” I reply as I carefully set the plate down on the table.

He immediately snatches the one on top, and I take the one below. I don’t even attempt to talk to him while he’s inhaling his scones. I look at him though. My stomach’s in knots, both from nerves and anticipation. I take one more and let him have the rest. Soon, there’s only one left, the one that’s covering the ring underneath. He finishes his latest scone. He’s going to reach for it. Crowley, this it. I take a deep breath, and...

He’s stopped. Why has he stopped?

“Uh,” I say, “do you not want the last one?”

“No you can have it,” Simon replies with a grin.

Oh Merlin and Morgana, it’s Watford all over again; Simon Snow messing up my plots. “No, no, I’m full. You can have it.” Eat the fucking scone, Snow.

“No it’s fine. I’m full too.”

We sit in silence and stare each other. It’s a true British politeness stalemate. After many minutes of uncomfortable moments, I lean forward, but so does he.

“Simon, I-

“Baz, I-”

We both say it at the same time, blinking at each other slowly for a minute. Simon is the one who breaks the silence this time.

“Oh you go first, sorry.”

I shake my head. “No, no, you go first. It can wait.” It really can’t, but I want Simon to be focused when I ask him.

Simon slowly nods. He takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders. Hm, whatever he wants to say seems to be causing him tension. That’s...odd.

“Okay, so,” he starts, obviously trying to keep his voice calm, “Baz, we’ve been together awhile.”

“I’m aware,” I reply with a smirk I can’t help. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, prick. So, we’ve been together for seven years now, and I gotta say I’ve been...really happy. Like, it hasn’t perfect of course, but overall it’s been pretty amazing. And _you’re_ pretty amazing. The first few years after Watford I was a complete mess but you stuck by me. I will always appreciate that so fucking much. As well as everything else you’ve done. You make me really happy all the time.” He reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. “I-I guess what I’m trying to say in too many stupid words is that, I love you, Baz. I really mean that.”

I squeeze his hand, loving the way it feels. But where is he going with this? “I love you too, Simon.”

He takes another deep breath. “What I’m also trying to say, is that I love our life. And you’re the love of _my_ life. And I want to tell and show everyone. So...”

Oh...oh Crowley, is he doing what I think he’s doing?! He uses his other hand to reach down into his lap. As he slowly raises it back up, my heart beats faster and faster. And when he places his hand on the table, it stops entirely.

It’s a box. A black velvet ring box.

“I was going to save this for later,” he says sheepishly, “but this dinner was so good, and the moment felt right, so I’ve decided to just go for it. So, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch,” he uses his strong fingers to open the box with one hand, “will you marry me?”

I’m speechless. It’s been years since I was _this_ speechless. I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open wide enough to catch flies. I keep staring at the ring. It’s...gorgeous; a thick men’s band, mostly jet black with a line of silver in the middle. It’s sleek, elegant, and dark. Exactly something I’d love. I know that I know Simon well, but sometimes I forget just how well he knows me too.

I look back up at him, and he looks very nervous and very scared.

“If you don’t like the ring, w-we can get a new one,” he blurts out. “I just saw it at a shop near the daycare and it looked so perfect that I had to buy it. I’ve been agonizing over a way to ask you. I know this is sort of impulsive, but also not really. We already want to be together forever and I think marriage would be nice. But if you don’t want to I understand. I- I just thought... And you’re so-”

“Snow, stop,” I say softly. He lets out a long breath, staring at me with wide eyes. I smile as kindly as I can. “Just, eat the last scone, love.”

He frowns adorably. “What? This is more important than scones, Baz.”

The fact that Simon bloody Snow loves me more than sour cherry scones is absolutely incredible and deserves to be shouted to the rooftops. But this is more important.

“Simon,” I say slowly, “trust me, lift up the last scone.”

He’s still frowning, but shrugs and moves to the last scone. He lifts it up nonchalantly, and promptly drops it to the ground. Of course, sitting in the middle of the crumbs and sugar granulates is the golden ring. It’s Simon’s turn to gape, mouth comically wide. He looks from the ring, to me, back to the ring, and back to me.

“You,” he whispers, “you were...this is- This is an-”

“Engagement ring yes,” I chuckle. “It’s the reason for the nice dinner and pile of scones.”

“You were going to...”

“Propose? Yes, that was the plan. But it seems you beat me to the punch, darling.”

“Oh my god I’m sorry,” Simon groans, putting his head in his hands. “You had this lovely sweet plan and I ruined it. I’m such an idiot.”

“Snow, no, it’s absolutely fine.” I rush over to his side and kneel next to his chair. I pull his hands away from his face, clutching them tightly. “I’m not mad at all, understand? I’m very, very happy. Your proposal was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. And the ring is goddamn beautiful.” I hold his chin and look him right in the eyes. “The answer is yes, Simon, I will certainly marry you.”

He looks at me nervously for a moment, but I sigh with relief when he smiles. We both giggle and tap our foreheads together. This is incredible. Sure, it didn’t go as planned, but what in our relationship has? And godammit I’m so happy, and so is he. That’s what’s important.

“So what was your proposal speech?” Simon whispers. “I bet you practiced it in the mirror a hundred times.”

I frown. “No I didn’t.” (Lie. I did, every day. And with Fiona.)

Snow gives me a knowing look, and I sigh. I stand up and grab the ring off the platter, still holding one of his hands.

“Simon,” I say firmly, “I’ve known you for more than half my life. And I know you are the bravest, most kind, most incredible man on the planet. You amaze me every single day. I never thought I’d have a real life, let alone a happy one. But my time with you has been just that. We may have started out rough, but we've come a long way. We’ve seen each other through our lowest and highest points. So I want to spend our entire lives together, no matter how long mine may be.” He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. “So, I ask if you would do me a great honour, and allow me to promise such in front of everyone we know and love.” I get down on one knee, because why not? I’ve already embraced the cheesiness. “Simon Snow, will you marry me?”

He doesn’t actually answer. Rather launches himself forward to bloody tackle hug me to the ground. I ignore the fact that all the air has been knocked out my lungs. He buries his face in my neck, and I can feel something wet against it. I understand. I’m pretty sure I’m crying as well.

“Is that a yes?” I chuckle.

“Yes,” he says into my skin. Then he raises his head, sniffling and crying with a giant smile. “Yes, I will marry you, you incredible bastard.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Bastard? Is that really something to call your fiancé?”

Red spreads across his freckled cheeks. Something about the word ‘fiancé’ obviously sets him off, because next thing I know he’s kissing me so hard I see stars. He holds my jaw tightly while his thumbs press into my cheekbones. I bury my hands in his his bronze curls, tugging them on slightly. Simon moans into my mouth, and if I weren’t already on the floor I would’ve collapsed at the feeling. It’s sloppy, passionate, and absolutely wonderful. I love him. I love him more than anything. And he’s my bloody fiancé _._ Aleister Crowley, I'm living the most charmed life.

“You,” he whispers between our mouths, “are such a hopeless romantic, Baz Pitch.”

I pull back so he can see my frown. I don’t like my reputation insulted. “Am not. I’m a scary evil plotting vampire, remember?”

Simon traces a finger over my cheek. “Basil, how long have you been planning this?”

Oh shit. He knows me far too well. I can feel my blush spread all the way down to my neck. Crowley, I don’t want to satisfy that big smug grin on his face. I’ve already embarrassed myself quite a lot tonight, but this is the tipping point.

“Awhile,” I mumble.

“Be specific, Pitch.”

“Fuck off. You’re going to laugh at me.”

He lowers his head to kiss down my neck. I let out a shaky breath. Oh Merlin, he’s such a wonderful bastard. He knows how vulnerable I am to neck kisses.

“How long, Baz?” He whispers in a sing song.

“Ugh, fine,” I mutter. “Six months. I’ve been planning for six months. And I had help from many people to prepare.”

He giggles against my neck, and I love the vibrations he creates. Even if he’s being a smug bastard. “Of course, you plotting hopeless romantic vampire.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Simon pulls back, looking down at me with his gorgeous wide smile. He’s illuminated by the soft lamps, making it look like he has an orange halo and shimmering hair. He really is an angel. And he’s all mine.

“Make me,” whispers.

That sets something off in me. I grab his arms and easily flip him over onto his back. He yelps in surprise but that quickly turns into a giggle. I waste no time in undoing his shirt, almost ripping the buttons off. I kiss down his sternum with furious urgency. He chuckles and runs his fingers through my hair.

“Eager, hm?”

I growl, having undone shirt and moved onto his jeans with too many buttons. (I swear he wears these just to torture me.) “Shut _up_ , Snow.”

“I told you, Basil, ma- Oh, oh _yes._ ”

His fingers tighten in my hair. He doesn’t exactly shut up, but he doesn’t say any actual English words either. It’s a collection of incoherent exclamations and moans. Mission accomplished.

* * *

 

Snow and I are curled up together on the couch. After spending so long on the floor, my back is killing me, but it was _very_ much worth it. We’re only half dressed, shirts and pants still open. But we’re far too dazed to even try to look presentable. Who cares anyway? We’re alone in our flat, and we’re too busy basking in the happy afterglow of our engagement. Well, also the sex, but the engagement is the more important event obviously.

“So who was it?” Simon asks from where his head rests against my chest.

“Hm?” I reply.

He turns his head so his chin digs into me. He looks at me with a lazy smile. “You said people helped you with the proposal. Who was it?”

I sigh, running my fingers through his messy hair. “Well, Fiona helped me with speech. Though ‘helped’ may be too generous. Mostly she laughed at me and insisted I change all the adjectives. Dev sent me a hundred different possible recipes to make for dinner. Except for the scones, of course. That was Cook Pritchard. She sends her congratulations by the way. And Niall was actually very helpful when finding a ring. He has surprisingly good taste.”

“So did Niall pick it out? Should I be marrying him instead?”

I flick his nose and he snickers. “No, arsehole, of course I picked it. He just knows the good jewelry stores from when he proposed to his girlfriend.”

“Ah, I see.” His brow furrows. “Y’know, maybe we should actually put those things on.”

“Mm, good idea. Go get them.”

“Why do I have to go get them?”

“Because you’re on top right now and my back hurts too much to move.”

“Old man,” he grumbles as he gets up. I’m too relaxed to remind him that we’re the same age.

He returns quickly, then motions me to sit up, which I do reluctantly. We sit facing each other. He’s examining his gold ring with great interest.

“It’s very pretty,” he says with awe.

I smile smugly. “Look on the inside.”

Simon gives me a curious expression, but shrugs and slowly spins the ring. I can tell the exact moment he sees it. His blue eyes go incredibly wide. Niall said it was too cheesy. But I knew Snow would love it. He lets out a breathy laugh and smiles, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You giant sap,” he says.

“Would you like me to put it on?”

He nods vigorously and holds out the ring. I take it, and gently place my hand under his. It slips onto his ring finger perfectly. Simon snorts and sniffles very unromantically as I do it. But my heart's still beating out of my chest.

“Your turn,” he says, holding up his ring.

“I suppose,” I reply with a smile.

This time I offer my hand to him. The ring fits perfectly on me as well. I’m surprised he found a men’s ring that fits my bony pianist fingers. But he did, and I’m just so fucking happy.

“This is gorgeous as well,” I say.

“It’s not engraved though,” he grumbles. “I didn’t think of that, sorry.”

“Simon, it’s absolutely fine.” He still looks upset. I sigh, and tug on his arm. “Come here.” He flops forward onto me as I lay down. I work my fingers into his hair and kiss his temple, feeling him sigh against my chest.

“I don’t care if mine is engraved, because I know you love me. And because I meant what I engraved on your ring,” I whisper, and he chuckles, which makes me feel relieved. I repeat the words I had etched into the metal, the ones I’ve meant for our seven years together and even longer beforehand. “Simon Snow, I choose you.”

He sighs and holds me tighter. I can tell he’s about to fall asleep. Realistically, we should get up. There’s dishes to wash and this couch isn’t exactly comfortable to sleep on. But Snow is curled up against me, breathing softly. I can feel the cool metal of his ring pressed against my skin. Everything feels too perfect to move. So I just hold Simon, my _fiancé_ , closer, and let myself drift off into sleep.

* * *

 

“What was so important that I had to get up at 6:30 in the morning for?” Bunce grumbles. She’s glaring at us through the screen, glasses askew and giant cup of coffee in hand.

“Well,” Simon says slowly, “take a guess.”

“Simon, I’m not a fan of guessing games. Especially this early.”

“It’s the afternoon for us,” I say. She glares even harder.

“Fine,” she grumbles, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s see. Simon, you’ve got bags under your eyes, and Baz, you keep rubbing the back of your neck. Meaning you two had a fitful sleep on that bloody couch Simon refuses to throw away.”

“I like it,” Simon mumbles with a pout.

“But, you’re also smiling excessively. Even Baz looks happy, and that takes quite a lot to achieve. So I’m guessing you tried some amazing sex thing on that couch and decided to be arseholes and wake me up far too early to tell me.”

I roll my eyes at her sarcasm, and Simon sticks his tongue out. “No, we’re not that evil, Pen," he says.

“You are close though. We slept on the couch, but we actually did it on the floor,” I interject, earning an elbow jab from Snow and a fake retching from Penelope.

“Okay fine,” Bunce groans, “you’re both gross and I’m tired. I give up. Just fucking tell me or I’m hanging up.”

Snow and I both share a look. We’ve been pointedly hiding our left hands. He wiggles his fingers in silent question. I nod.

“Well,” Simon says, “we ended up on the floor-”

“Gross.”

“Let me finish, Pen. We were on the floor because we were a tad over excited. Since Baz gave me this last night.”

He lifts up his hand, making sure the ring is in frame. Bunce’s jaw drops to the floor and her coffee mug nearly falls. She grips her laptop screen and leans forward.

“Nice, huh?” Snow says. “Baz has good taste.”

“Aleister fucking Crowley! Basilton fucking proposed?!” she shouts, loud enough to distort the sound

“M-hm. We had a nice dinner and he hid it under a pile of scones. He had a speech prepared and everything, like the romantic he is.”

“Awwww, that’s adorable.”

I glare at the screen, but Bunce keeps smiling. “Well, Snow is one to talk,” I say, “he proposed with his own adorable rambling speech before I got the chance, foiling my very well thought out plan.”

I show my own ring. Bunce just throws her head back laughing. Simon blushes and kicks my foot, but he’s still smiling ear to ear. Bunce tries to get a hold of herself, still chuckling and wiping a tear from her eye.

“Crowley,” she sighs, “of course that’s what happened. You’re both giant disasters.”

“Shut up,” Snow replies with a smile. “Why are you even surprised? You knew I was planning to.”

I look at him curiously. “She knew you were going to propose?”

“Of course I did!” Penelope shouts. “He called me the second after he bought the ring. I told him he was an impulsive idiot and to wait until the right moment. Which I assumed would be at least a week later, not two days.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Well, it was the right moment, but that was because I made it.”

“And Simon foiled your plot.”

“As usual,” Simon says. We look at each other, and I see nothing but utter joy.

“Okay,” Bunce says, “you two need time to be adorable and engaged, so I’ll leave you to it. But let me know when you pick a date because I _will_ be coming back to England at least two months before to help with everything. You’re going to need it.”

“Oh we will?” I ask with one eyebrow raised.

“Considering how the proposal went? Yes. Bye you idiots, love you!”

She hangs up before I can protest. Simon snorts with laughter. I huff and cross my arms. “She always has to have the last word, doesn’t she?”

“Of course she does, she’s Penny. Now,” he throws his legs over me and sits on my lap without ceremony, “we’ve got the whole weekend free. What should we do, my dear fiancé?”

“Well,” I sigh, running my hands up his sides, “you insisted Bunce know first, so we still have to call my parents, Aunt Fiona, Dev and Niall, and Wellbelove.”

“Okay, sounds good. And afterwards?”

“Hm, we could go for a walk, see a movie, have a nice dinner out.”

“The walk sounds nice. But,” he leans closer, “how about instead of a movie and dinner out, we just order in and watch something on TV? I want to spend time with you. Just the two of us.”

I smile, pulling him closer by the small of his back. “I think I’d like that. Though we’re not sleeping on the couch again. Bunce is right, it’s terrible. My neck is going to have a kink for days.”

“Fine, fine, you big vampire baby, we’ll make sure to get to bed.” He brings his mouth next to my ear. “And then we won’t leave it until Monday.”

A shiver runs down my spine. Merlin and Morgana, seven years together and he still drives me absolutely crazy. “I think I can find that agreeable," I whisper. "My dear fiancé.”

He pulls back to show his smirk. I lean up and kiss it off his face. It’s a slower, calmer kiss, just a lazy slide of lips. It’s so familiar, and it feels like home. Snow presses his left hand right over my heart, and I put my own left over it. Our rings touch with the tiniest clink.

There’s no place in the world I’d rather be right now.

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled with what counts as a confession, so I did my best. Baz admitting to the six months of planning (lol what a dork) is supposed to be the confession if that wasn't clear. I think that satisfies the prompt. And after the amazing trial that was "Time on Our Side", I needed to write something fluffy and simple, so I decided on a stupidly adorable proposal. Now I've written a proposal and a morning after the wedding fic. All that's left is an actual wedding fic. Hmmmmm I'll have to think about that :)
> 
> PS: [This](https://www.candere.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/g/r/gr00015_1_2.jpg) is Simon's ring and [this](https://cdn3.volusion.com/cqvgh.yupfm/v/vspfiles/photos/7110-2.jpg?1387152001) is Baz's.


End file.
